


Catalyst

by lamardeuse



Category: Merlin (BBC) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-17
Updated: 2010-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:57:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/lamardeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes all you need is a catalyst to speed up a reaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catalyst

**Author's Note:**

> For hermette.

Bradley's completely on autopilot when he steps out of the van outside the castle, and so the calls of the fans as Colin emerges behind him wash over him as so much meaningless sound. He's not in the best frame of mind to begin with – he never sleeps well the night before a tricky shoot, and there's a rather difficult fight scene scheduled for today. He's trying not to think about everything that could go wrong, tells himself Andreas will have it under control, but there are a lot of variables to consider, and not even Andreas can always predict what will happen.

 

Once they're past the gates and in the relative calm of the throne room, where the public have been (mercifully) blocked from entering, he startles at the feeling of someone bumping his shoulder. He looks up and Colin's beside him, looking faintly amused. He hadn't even realised Colin was there.

 

“You're a million miles away.”

 

Bradley shakes his head. “Just a little preoccupied.”

 

Colin opens his mouth, shuts it again. “'Kay. I'll leave you be.”

 

Bradley can hear his mother scolding him for his manners all the way from Devon. “Sorry, I didn't mean –”

 

“I know you didn't,” Colin interrupts, still smiling. “Good luck with the fight, yeah?”

 

“Thanks,” Bradley manages, and Colin touches him briefly on the shoulder again – more than a pat, but less than a grip – and heads off to the corridor where they're setting up for his scene.

 

Bradley's noticed that Colin's been touching him more recently, and he's trying not to think about what it might mean, mainly because he's afraid it means absolutely nothing. That doesn't stop him from remembering the warm feeling of Colin's hand on him an hour later when he's in the middle of the fight, and as a result he's the one who nearly buggers up the whole thing by stepping into a blow instead of away from it. As the stunt man pulls back just in time, he thinks _I really hate Tuesdays_ just before Andreas calls a halt and beckons him over with a crooked finger and a disapproving eyebrow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By the time lunch rolls around, Bradley's ready to leap from the highest parapet, though he rules against it when a busload full of schoolchildren arrives at the castle. He can see the headline now: _Family Show Star's Last Act on Earth: Condemning Dozens of French Tots to Years of Therapy._

 

Katie and Angel are already at their regular table, tucking into plates of lamb stew when he arrives. He picked the chicken, but he's rather regretting it now because the stew smells heavenly. Sitting down with a sigh, he earns a frown from Angel.

 

“What's the matter with you?” she demands, cocking her head.

 

“He had that fight today. Show us your boo-boos, Bradders,” Katie croons.

 

“You enjoy seeing men bruised and battered, don't you, McGrath?” Bradley shoots back. 

 

“Nothing gives me greater pleasure,” she says, deadpan, and fuck, she's _frightening_ when she does that.

 

“So what did you think?” Angel asks him, wisely changing the subject. Unfortunately, Bradley has no idea what the subject is.

 

“Of what?”

 

“Colin's film. The trailer?” she adds, at Bradley's blank look. “For _Parked_?”

 

“Oh, has that come out?” Bradley says, taking a bite of his chicken, which is fine, but not nearly as good as the stew smells. Wonderful, now he has lunch envy. He hates it when that happens.

 

“You haven't seen it yet?” Angel says, confused. “We thought for sure that Colin would – I mean –”

 

“Contrary to popular belief, we're not joined at the hip,” Bradley mutters. Katie snorts at that, and Bradley rolls his eyes. “Oh, for Christ's sake, get your mind out of the gutter.”

 

“But it's been there for so long,” Katie says, batting her eyelashes. “Where else would it go?”

 

Bradley stabs at his chicken viciously. For months, Katie has been making cracks – subtle and not-so-subtle – about his supposed love for Colin, though never (thank God) in front of Colin, as far as he knows. Angel hasn't been so vocal, but whenever the subject comes up she always looks at him with a mixture of pity and exasperation, as though he's a none-too-bright puppy who can't seem to get the hang of not piddling on the carpet. He has no idea what's planted the idea in their tiny minds, but they're beginning to get annoying, perhaps because they're unwittingly hitting far too close to home.

 

“Anyway,” Angel says, doggedly trying to keep the conversation from derailing further, “you should see it. He's brilliant, of course.” She reaches in her purse for her phone. “I'll send you the link.”

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Bradley murmurs, just as Colin comes bounding up to their table with his usual plate of vegetarian something-or-other. As he sets it down, Bradley notices even that smells better than his own lunch.

 

“Hey,” Colin says, clapping Bradley on the back in greeting as he sits, “how'd it go, then?”  


 

“Splendidly,” Bradley drawls. “Tom only tried to take off my head this time.”

 

“So, nothing vital,” Colin shoots back, and Bradley laughs. The four of them soon fall into their regular back-and-forth, and Bradley's mood improves. As various crewmembers stop by to offer Colin congratulations on the trailer, though, he begins to feel oddly bereft, as though he's been left out of something important. By the time he's called back to the set, the chicken is a lead weight in his gut.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Angel's as good as her word and promptly texts him the link, but Bradley waits until the day is over and he's back in his hotel room alone to watch it. He's not sure what he's expecting – he likes to think he knows as well as anyone just how good an actor Colin Morgan is – but he doesn't expect to barely recognize the man he's been friends with for three years.

 

Cathal has nothing of Merlin in him; he's all brittle, nervous energy, everything so close to the surface it's almost painful to witness. Bradley's often been impressed by Colin's work on the show, but he  _knows_ Merlin, has read the scripts and run lines with Colin until the character feels nearly as familiar to him as Arthur. Cathal is a stranger, and the realisation upsets Bradley for no reason he can name.

 

He's not sure how long he sits there staring blankly at the computer screen, but he startles when a knock sounds on the door. He leaps up to answer it, and of course it's Colin, waiting with his laptop and a smile.

 

“Hey,” Colin says, brandishing the computer, “thought you might want to watch a bit of Python.”

 

Bradley smiles; it's become a ritual of sorts, one of them bringing something to lighten the mood whenever the other had a stressful day on set. Usually, the prescription involves Monty Python, occasionally some Blackadder or The Office. “Sure, c'mon in,” he says, stepping aside to let Colin enter.

 

Colin spies Bradley's open laptop and grins. “Already started without me?” he asks, heading towards it.

 

“Oh, no, I –” Bradley begins, but Colin's already seen the screen. His grin fades, and he straightens again, the hand not holding his computer going to his neck, one of Colin's few self-conscious gestures. Bradley feels as though he's been caught watching porn. 

 

“Sorry, I was slow in getting around to watching it. Didn't realise it was out, though everyone else seems to have known.” The last statement comes out sounding a little resentful, and Bradley winces slightly.

 

Colin shifts on the balls of his feet. “Katie emailed bloody everyone about it,” he says, chuckling mirthlessly. “I'm surprised she didn't tell you.”

 

“Yeah, well –” Bradley begins, then shuts his mouth as he remembers Angel's words. Before he can think better of it, he says, “Everyone thought you'd already shown it to me.”

 

Colin darts a look at him which quickly skitters away, and that's another thing that sets Cathal apart: both Colin and Merlin are much better at hiding. “Oh,” he says, voice uncharacteristically small. “Well, you know me, not exactly big on calling attention to myself, yeah?”

 

“Christ, mate,” Bradley gusts, “you picked the wrong profession for that.”

 

“You know what I mean,” Colin says, and Bradley smiles, because yeah, he does. For all that Colin is a completely dedicated actor and damned good at talking up the show at every opportunity, he's not one for self-promotion. If he had to be his own agent, he'd starve.

 

“Still, you're going to have to get over that when you're a big film star.”

 

Colin snorts. “Shut up.”

 

“I'm serious, Col,” Bradley says softly, and Colin frowns at him. “Your work –” he waves a hand at his laptop “– even from that trailer, I can tell that if there's any justice in the world you're going to win a pile of awards for it.” 

 

Colin's frown turns to a shy, hesitant smile that makes Bradley want to yank him into his arms and kiss him. “Thanks,” he murmurs. “I was really lucky – it was an amazing project.”

 

This time Bradley's the one who frowns. “You really don't get it, do you? It's not the project, it's you. You're amazing.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he realises he's not just talking about the trailer. Worse, the gobsmacked look on Colin's face shows he's realised it too. Bloody marvelous.

 

Colin takes a step closer to him, his gaze searching. “Bradley,” he murmurs, “d'you –”

 

Suddenly all the air seems to have left the room, because Bradley can't get enough oxygen. “What? Do I what?” Bradley croaks, and oh, lovely, that didn't sound panicked at all.

 

Colin sets the laptop down on the table, then takes another step forward, and Bradley's heart starts dancing a jig in his chest. Biting his lip, Colin murmurs, “I'm going to try something that's either going to be really dumb or really brilliant.”

 

“H-how are you going to know which one it is?” Bradley stammers. 

 

Colin's gaze darts down to Bradley's mouth, then back up again. “You're going to have to let me know,” he whispers, and then his hand is fisting in Bradley's shirt and his head is tilting as he leans in.

 

It's a brief brush of lips, hardly something that could be called a proper kiss, and yet Bradley's never had a sweeter one, or one that made his lips tingle as though he's snogged an electrical socket. Colin pulls back just enough for Bradley to see the question in his eyes, though it disappears quickly when Bradley grabs Colin by the shoulders and hauls him back in.

 

“So,” Colin murmurs a bit later, as Bradley's mouthing his way along Colin's jaw, “brilliant, then?”

 

“Still haven't decided,” Bradley says, hands snaking under Colin's t-shirt and pushing it up. Colin smacks him gently on the back of the head, then goes back to kissing him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Later, with Colin drowsing quietly beside him, Bradley picks up his phone and texts Katie.

 

 _so im thicky mcthickerson, arent i_

 

The reply isn't long in coming:

 

 _of the devon mcthickersons, yes_

 

 _how long?_

 

 _about as long as youve been mad about him, i expect_

 

Bradley's head thunks back against the headboard.  _fuck._

 

 _well, i certainly hope so after all this time_

 

Bradley's eyes widen.  _miss mcgrath, you are a filthy hussy_

 

 _and you would do well to follow my example if you want to keep your new boyfriend_

 

 _goodnight, hussy_

 

 _give colin a kiss for me_

 

When he puts the phone down, Colin's looking up at him. “Katie or Angel?” he asks, voice thick with sleep and satisfaction.

 

“Katie.”

 

“Mmmm,” Colin hums. “They've been telling me for months to get off my arse and just snog you, because you'd never make a move.”

 

“I'll have you know I was _this close_ to making a move.”

 

Colin snorts and presses his nose to Bradley's shoulder. “Riiight.”

 

“A genius move. Swift and decisive. You would have been impressed.”

 

“I'm sure.”

 

“Are you doubting me, Colin?” Bradley says, affecting a hurt air.

 

Colin sits up and straddles Bradley's hips, then braces himself on his hands and stares down at him. Bradley meets his gaze, his own hands spanning Colin's ribs, feeling them expand and contract with his breaths.

 

“You have a very honest face,” Colin concedes. “I believe you.”

 

“Thank you,” Bradley says primly.

 

Colin wriggles a bit in Bradley's lap, and Bradley can't suppress a groan. “Tired yet?” Colin asks.

 

Bradley's hands slide to Colin's waist. “What time 'sit?”

 

Colin leans down to bite his chin. “Ten-thirty.”

 

Bradley angles his head and captures Colin's lower lip between his teeth. “I have to be up at five for that blasted tournament scene.”

 

Immediately, Colin's weight begins to shift off him. “Okay, well, I'll just –”

 

Bradley's hands dig into his hips, halting him. “Don't you dare. Sleep is highly overrated.”

 

Colin's fingers brush over the bruise on Bradley's arm, and Bradley shivers. “Don't want you mucking up and getting your head taken off, you git.”

 

“That was not my fault!” Bradley protests, but Colin silences him with a kiss. “Alright, alright, but – stay?”

 

Bradley can feel it when Colin grins against his mouth. “Okay,” he says. “If you want.”

 

“Yeah,” Bradley breathes, and admitting it feels – fuck, it feels _great._ “I want.”

 

And later, in the darkness, when Colin's warm and solid and real beside him, Bradley closes his eyes and thinks,  _I really love Tuesdays._


End file.
